We lead you up the garden path
with promises of a pig in a poke or
a quickie behind the tool shed or
a pissing contest or some such shit
only to lose our nerve and leave you
with your pants at half-mast and
your imagination flapping in the wind.
Jim Murdoch: Scot, gatophile, honorary woman, classical music aficionado, Whovian, novelist and producer of half-to-three-quarter-(and-occasionally-actually-fully)-decent poems for over half a century.